


Kaddish

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode: s01e22 What Kind of Day Has It Been, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-01
Updated: 2006-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-30 10:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15094553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Josh tries to cope with the death of a friend. First series finale resolution.





	Kaddish

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Disclaimer: In the kingdom of Aaron Sorkin, I am but the lowest of the low.  I own nothing.

"Kaddish"  
\---------------- by Kim

The newspapers this morning are running a different headline for the first time since it happened. You can walk past a newsstand now in perfect anonymity--- no fear of seeing your own exhausted face staring back at you from beneath four-inch all-caps black or the less exultant italics of the column headers. The press already has stock photos of the incident--- what was it the newscaster called them just last night? Images burned into the mind of a reeling America? Yeah, well, you're sure America's in a lot of pain right now. Almost as much as Leo or Sam.

You're surprised at how angry you still are. It's been four days, after all.

Four days. And all apologies so far. The first day: "Josh, I'm sorry to do this--- we need you back at the office---" The second: "Josh, I'm sorry to tell you this--- they're not sure if Leo's going to live---" The third: "Josh, I'm sorry to make you do this--- Mandy's memorial service is today---"

And now the fourth. What will they be apologizing for now?

You've heard Toby might be coming back today. At least that'll be some work off your shoulders and onto someone else's admittedly battered ones. Just what you need--- more time to sit alone in your office and brood.

Reaching the White House in the light, early-summer rain, you're surprised to see that it's mostly clear of the reporters that have practically lived there the last few days, hungry for one glance, one good shot of the few remaining ranks of the White House senior staff. The halls of the West Wing are empty still, secretaries and assistants no longer needed or gone to seek answers from their priests, their rabbis, their therapists. The sight of a few significant office doors closed and the windows dark beside them is enough to give you a faint, queasy headache.

"Josh! Good, you're here. You've got a meeting with the president at nine, Senator Lockhart at ten-thirty, and Toby wants to see you in between to get caught up. Oh, and... at twelve you've got Steve Onerato." Donna, right on schedule, her bright and organized edge barely dulled.

"What does Onerato want?" you ask without real interest.

"He wants to talk to you about the FEC thing. What did you think?"

"He's going to fight with me about that now? This week?"

Donna seems to think this is obvious. "Yeah. He sounded angry."

"He's angry," you repeat, disbelieving.

"Yeah."

"Okay." Onerato can stay angry. You have no intention of meeting with him.

The President, though--- the President you can't avoid. As Acting Chief of Staff you have a responsibility to brief him, keep him informed, and put up with his concerned and probing questions. You helped put the man in office lauding his sensitive nature, and now wish he could be cold and shut-off. It's not easy to avoid the echoes of Leo's name you hear when you step into the Oval Office. Does the President have to invoke that particular demon as well?

When you checked at the hospital last night, Leo was doing better. The doctors are hopeful.

You check your watch. You've got forty-five minutes before you're expected by the President. "I'm going to my office now," you tell Donna. It's time to make a hasty retreat.

"What should I do with your calls?" she asks.

"If it's CJ, put her through. If it's Steve Onerato, hang up. Otherwise, just use your good judgement." Some days you might question that judgement. Today you are simply too tired.

You like to keep your office dark, now more than ever. Sitting down at your desk you have to really focus, really strain your eyes to read the print on CJ's latest memo. This means the quantity of light is perfect. The memo is three pages long, but at least CJ is down to one a day. The content seems to be mostly how to deal with press attention, and a listing of the latest official White House statement. Instructions: "Do not give out information on the status of any hospitalized White House staff member," it says. "Do not comment on the state of mind of the President or any staff member." Has there really been a problem with this sort of thing? You imagine legions of secretaries being slipped dollar bills by the National Enquirer to say the President is crazed with grief. It's difficult to believe. But this whole situation is surreal.

You scan your desk for other items. Someone has left you a package. You open it a little numbly, wondering who could be sending gifts at a time like this. The blue writing addressing it is unfamiliar. As the brown wrapping paper falls away under your fingers you stand, staring.

Mandy. You and Mandy.

(cont'd in part 2) 

  

****


End file.
